similar gratification, because, being aware of the fact and its cause, their good sense will teach them the remedy. In my opinion, young ladies never should be forward in 'Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles;' but always maintain a strict natural dignity, and never, on peril of their hopes, give us reason, by their too intimate attentions, to suppose that their destiny is in our hands. Most of us are prone to be heroic, and I grieve to say, that mary in our ranks would glory in holding a female in chains of captivity, and in ruling her at pleasure. And to my own compeers, too, it is necessary to observe, that the gentle sex are quite discerning in the affections; that if you place love and confidence in any one of them sincerely, and by constant attention render it certain, you are a 'Captive knight at a proud woman's feet ;' and she in a moment perceives your situation, and though she may love like an angel, she will hold you in chains, and drive you with a rod of iron, and her proud lips will curl, and her bright eyes flash fire. Hence originate love-cracked heroes and captains-and what in this world can be worse? I could at this moment appeal to hundreds of this class, and they would all unite in imploring you to steer clear of their poor course. I might mention other consequences of this intimacy, so apparent in this goodly city. Reader-hast thou seen poor, pennyless, shirtless poverty offering up devotions at the shrine of Bacchus?-or beheld the once spotless virgin low at the feet of infamy? I maintain then, that you have heard enough and seen enough, and ought to be convinced that my deductions are reasonable. And if so, it is plain that too much intimacy is detrimental to the happiness of both sexes. Nor can reform in this respect be too much insisted on. I have something in my eye-just as if the two classes should receive such an impetus as to place an immense distance between them in regard to all lovely matters. I mean the unmarried. The idea is rather whimsical-but then it serves my purpose. There are duties for females, which place them on a par with us; and if they would keep to those duties, and permit us now and then to behold them in their leisure moments, and, if we choose to fix upon any of them as wives, merely to let us know it civilly, if we have their consent, and abjure all falseness and flirtation then, and just encourage us now and then with a smile or so, at the distance of a yard or so-why, we certainly ought to promise no less. And then for better days! Why, the race of love-cracked heroes and old maids would only be remembered as things that were once; and there would be a general millennium wherever these rules were adopted. FALSTAFF. THE EVENING STAR. BY L. E. L. How beautiful the twilight sky, Whose starry worlds now spread, And there is one-a radiant one- The clouds fall off in glittering flakes, So moves a ship that flings the waves I marvel not in former days, Ere purer light was given, That men fell down and worshipped thee, A spirit-king in heaven. But now that knowledge great and high Is kindled in man's soul, We know thee but the glorious part Oh, mysteries of night! that fill How visibly the power of God Oh! might and majesty that reign Creed of my hope! I feel thy truth, ESSAYIST ROOM. CASPAR HAUSER—An account of an individual kept in a dungeon, separated from all communication with the world from early childhood to about the age of seventeen. Drawn up from legal documents, by Anselm Von Tenerbach, President of one of the Bavarian Courts of Appeal, &c. Translated from the German. Boston: Allen & Ticknor, 1832. THIS is a work of no little interest; the account of one who, from earliest infancy, had, for some mysterious reason, been confined to a lonesome dungeon, shut out from all communication with the world. His fiendish keeper was to him unknown, and though great pains have been taken by the judicial authorities of Nuremburg, to trace the perpetrator of this base transaction, it is still covered by the veil of inscrutable mystery. It is not our purpose, in a notice like this, to give a detail of his biography. We will merely state that he was discovered in the streets of Nuremburg, on the 26th of May, 1828, uniting the appearance of a young man with the demeanor of a mere child. Every faculty of his mind remained undeveloped, and having ever been confined to the darkness of his narrow cell, all things were as new to him, as though he had been lifted to the third heavens. Thus is presented,' says the preface, an opportunity for observation of the highest interest to the phisiological philosopher, the moral and religious teacher, the phisiologist and physician-an opportunity which must be as rare, as the crime which has afforded it.' 6 We will mention one instance, in the development of his mental powers, which is somewhat remarkable. We will give the incident in the author's own words. It was in the month of August, 1829, when, on a fine summer evening, his instructor showed him, for the first time, the starry heavens. His astonishment and transport surpassed all description. He could not be satiated with its sight, and was ever returning to gaze upon it; at the same time fixing accurately with his eye the different groups that were pointed out to him, remarking the stars most distinguished for their brightness, and observing the differences of their respective color. "That," he exclaimed," is indeed the most beautiful sight that I have ever yet seen in the world. But who has placed all these numerous beautiful candles there? Who lights them? Who puts them out?" When he was told that, like the sun with which he was already acquainted, they always continue to give light, he asked again, "Who placed them there above, that they may always continue to give light?" At length, standing motionless, with his head bowed down, and his eye staring, he fell into a train of deep and serious meditation. When he again recovered his recollection, his transport had been succeeded by deep sadness. He sank trembling upon a chair, and asked, why that wicked man had kept him always so closely locked up, and had never shown him any of these beautiful things,' &c. It is also remarked that before seeing this beautiful celestial display, Caspar had never shown anything like indignation against that man, but that now the full conception of his unhappy fate came to his mind with most painful force. Some months afterwards, while looking upon the beauty of rural scenery, Casper was for a moment highly delighted with the view; but he soon became silent and sad. When asked the reason of his altered humor, he replied: 'I was just thinking, how many beautiful things there are in the world, and how very hard it is for me to have lived so long and to have seen comparatively nothing of them; and how happy children are, who have been able to see all these things from their earliest infancy, and can still look at them. I am already so old, and am still obliged to learn what children know long ago. I wish I had never come out of my cage. He who put me there should have left me there. Then I should never have known and felt the want of anything, and should never have experienced the misery of never having been a child, and of coming into the world so late.' We will add but one word more. We think this book of peculiar interest to the metaphysical student. Here we have one, who for seventeen years was kept from all the influence and example of the world. What then was the result? Had his mind retained an unspotted purity, or had the seeds of depravity shot up with wild luxuriance? We will let President Tenerbach speak for us. He no longer retains,' says that eminent writer, any thing that is extraordinary, but his extraordinary fate, his indiscribable goodness, and the exceeding amiableness of his disposition." * SATURDAY EVENING-By the author of Natural History of Enthusiasm.' 1 vol. 12 mo. Boston Crocker & Brewster. A work, bearing the above title, has recently been republished from the original English edition. It is by the author of an able and elaborate essay, entitled the Natural History of Enthusiasm, which appeared about three years since, and was very generally admired. The volume is composed of several treatises on various interesting religious topics.. They are dwelt upon with strong thought and great feeling. The style, though sometimes unnecessarily obscure, is, for the most part, well adapted to the subject, and in some respects quite original. The title of the work is very appropriate, since it breathes the calm, contemplative spirit of the eventide preceding the Sabbath; we mean such a spirit as that holy season was wont to generate throughout our community. Philosophy, combined with every species of literature, increases its worth, but it is peculiarly calculated to coalesce with the grave and momentous influences of religious thought. In the volume before us we find this union, and it is this which constitutes its principle attraction. The following extracts will exhibit the author's manner of illustrating his ideas : 'Death divides friends, but it is only as the successive ranks of a host are divided, when summoned, in turn, to advance and pass singly a perilous defile. Beyond that strait of momentary gloom and danger, they are all again to be marshalled; and every one to join his commander.' 'The man who secretly contemns the humility and humanity of great minds, as if it were a weakness, may be sure that there is a region of thought of which he has no more knowledge than the mole has of the vastness and splendor of the upper skies, where the eagle soars.' "The Eden of human nature has indeed long ago been trampled down and desolated: storms waste it continually ;-nevertheless the soil is rich with the germs of its pristine beauty-all the colors of Paradise are sleeping in the clods; and a little favor, a little protection, a little culture will show what ence was there.' 'The man of meditation by no means desires to be placed in the midst of the gaudy magnificence of nature, before he can fill his soul with the ravishments he delights in. He would not, even if he could, walk through groves of luscious and spicy pleasures, where every color and every fragrance satiate the sense. He does not covet, as his home, a valley of the east, where the sun seems to linger and shed all his favors. On the contrary, he would much rather draw his devout inferences from the slenderest and most modest example; he chooses to dwell upon instances where the parsimony of nature gives the larger space to the diligence of reflection; and where the premises are less obtrusive than the conclusion. Yes, it is most true that the pious contemplatist finds in the sear herbage of the wilderness, and on the rugged and scorched surface of granite rocks, symbols enough of God; and he thinks himself richly furnished with book and lesson and teacher, when he descries, on his solitary way, only a blade of grass.' |